


The Weight of It All

by XantunsiaRiveresiana



Series: Xantunsia Riveresiana Chronicles [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Child Death, Desert Island, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Gen, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Original Character-centric, Short, Wilderness Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23628265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XantunsiaRiveresiana/pseuds/XantunsiaRiveresiana
Summary: A lost perspective of the dreaded island
Series: Xantunsia Riveresiana Chronicles [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700809





	The Weight of It All

“What was his name..?” the young Miqo’te girl asked, staring blankly at the corpse.  
That particular boy had arrived on the island just that day. He was surprisingly healthy after his crash, but hadn’t fully understood his situation and wandered off. There wasn’t much left to look at, but luckily, or unluckily, his face was mostly intact.  
It was a bad break, but it happened sometimes. Knowing this, I didn’t make a habit of naming newcomers immediately. I answered the girl matter of factly. “He didn’t have one, he wasn’t here long enough.” She didn’t respond, just kept staring at him, face completely expressionless. It wasn't an uncommon expression for her, in fact, it may just be that she got it from me; and it was at least better than the faces of horror I see on the new members for the first month or so. Leaving it like business as usual, I turned to return to basecamp.

And was stopped. 

Just barely, I just barely managed to notice it before walking off, but this girl was tugging on my sleeve. It wasn’t a particularly strong tug, but it was… heavy.  
I looked at her. She wore the same, expressionless face I was used to, but her hand; the light quivering, the tension of the grip; it’s force was miniscule, not even enough to stop my stride had I not done so myself, but it’s weight… It was as if all the emotions she didn’t dare bring to her face were being forced into that tiny, helpless hand.  
It’s weight was… suffocating.

“Muudar.”  
I finally said, after standing there with her in this ripe-for-monsters location for far too long.  
“His name was Muudar Riveresiana.”   
Expressionless still, but seemingly satisfied with the name I chose from my barely remembered origins, that hand finally released me, and I could breathe again.  
I couldn't help but keep an eye on her after that. She was just another kid in the beginning, mediocre in most aspects, but day after day she came back alive. I thought her simply a quick learner and left it at that, but it was more. She devoured information about the clan ravenously. Their names, skills, weaknesses, fears, previous mission experience, relationships to other clan members; at first I simply thought she was being efficient. This was all information that would help her come back alive. I would have kept thinking that way if I looked for her expressions alone.  
If I hadn't seen that hand.

It came back, every time. Every time we lost a clansman. She gave that blank stare, and that just barely trembling hand.  
That hand with a weight that almost crushed me. And this child was bearing all that weight, every time, all alone.  
I hadn't even noticed what I had done until I saw her face. Her expression, that awed look she gave. The first expression I'd seen from her since she recovered from her crash. It was only after that did I notice the weight of the hand I had grasped unconsciously. It was immense, but lighter than before. Halved even.  
I let go after but a moment, but that awe stayed on her for much longer than that.

"Scavengers will come soon, lets go." I said abruptly heading back to basecamp. I didn't hear her trodding after me for a few moments, but she eventually followed as well.  
It was probably there the whole time, that burden on her. And that whole time I didn't notice a thing, because I was looking in the wrong way. It made me wonder what else I had missed.  
I knew Extorris was good with numbers, they had useful insight on odds and made a reliable scout for it. I would hear her muttering numbers in her sleep even. "3, 3 , 2, 1. 3, 3, 2, 1." I had never paid any mind until a particularly bad mission she returned from, most of her group got ambushed, only 3 of the 8 survived. That night I listened for the muttering. "3, 3, 2, 1, 5. 3, 3, 2, 1, 5."   
"And 3 that you saved." Were the words that burst out of my mouth then. I hadn't planned to say them, she was asleep after all.  
But she stopped counting in her sleep after that.

Vigilis was skilled at making weapons makeshift weapons out of the simple resources we had, because of that she was one of our best in a fight. She usually was part of an assault squad or for covering a retreat and often came back with scars, but alive.  
Those scars were self-made, testing her weapons, imitating the wounds that killed her squad members. I drew a, albeit crude, monster image on a tree. "What you're aiming your weapons at will never look like you. That's your target, that's what we're fighting, and that's who we blame."  
She had less scars from then on.

How much?

How much had I missed?

Durango was always good with time, he kept track of migration cycles, the length which monsters left nests for hunts, and exactly how long each clansman had been alive.  
Chi had keen sight and was often a look out from high places, she had seen most of the land on the island, and every time she saw how inescapable it was, she considered jumping from her perch.  
Radula had been collecting bits of clothing or bone from those who died near him, I could sometimes hear him talk to them  
Henshaw slept with a sharpened bone near him. I thought it was in case of emergencies, but he was hoping he would turn over onto it in his sleep.  
Each and every one of them was struggling with something, something even more than this damned island we were on.

Wasn't that enough on it's own?

I talked to them all a bit more, like she had been doing. It was good information to have, our survival rate went up. The whole clan seemed calmer, our situation seemed… tolerable.

And then

A calamity

The monsters were becoming erratic, unpredictable, angry. As if they were actively trying to purge us from the island. They died off bit by bit, the injtime or frail left behind to stall for time, like we'd always done. "You live for the clan, and the clan lives for you." Those words, one of the only memories I had from my life before this island, Had they always been this painful? This heavy? Had I let the island twist those words so much? The weight of my thoughts, regrets, guilt, threatened to slow down my escape from the monsters that hunted us.  
And they were halved an instant later   
as I felt the grip of a small hand on mine. That tiny, trembling hand, was the strongest grip I had ever felt. And in the next instant it was over.  
As a tree crashed down, barely giving us enough time to stop, the Monster giving chase was given enough time to catch up. I moved on instinct, gripping the girl next to me and making a motion to throw her. And then I saw that expression again, the awe I saw when I first reached out to her. I wonder, what expression was I making for her to look at me like that. Every ounce of survival instinct was telling me to throw her.

And I didn't.

She pushed away from my grip on her shirt and yet, she was still grasping my hand with the same strength. Even as the monsters claw cleaved me near in two.  
"Ah. So that's what those words meant." Were the only thoughts I could think. And with every ounce of strength in me, I broke her grip.  
I took so long to notice you, all of you. Maybe more of us would have made it through this, maybe we'd have found some hope, or even escape. I had been there for you all from the beginning, if I'd been the leader you deserved, the fath-... no, I don't have the right to use that word. I hope you can forgive me, for all the time I wasted. I won't be here anymore to help you bear that weight, but I know you'll be okay. You'll survive, you'll find other, lead others, much better than I did, and you'll share that weight together. Like I should have done from the start. You're stronger than anyone Xantunsia, I know you'll make me proud.

Those were my last thoughts, all of the feelings I wish I could have shared, but my cleaved body only had the strength for so many words, so I had limited choices. In the end, I simply went with.  
"I'll hold it off."


End file.
